


the world needs bad men

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drift Side Effects, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The question is not what Scott Hansen’s done to get himself kicked out of the PPDC but what Hercules Hansen’s done to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world needs bad men

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【Translation】the world needs bad men](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754608) by [suirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suirin/pseuds/suirin)



> I have ugly, ugly feelings when it comes to the Hansens, and the word _ugly_ is a good way to describe this one. A little shoutout to True Detective with the title.

 

“If it’s any consolation at all, Scotty,” Herc says, standing at the end of Scott’s hospital bed and tries not to break a second thing in this room, “You’re my brother, and I love you."

“Fuck if that isn’t the worst apology I’ve ever heard.”

 

 

Australia is in the dirt underneath his fingernails.

Australia is the condensation of that long neck going down ice cold, and bitter until the very end.

But here, on Kodiak Island where he can pull on shirt after shirt from his brother’s duffel and still be cold, here, is where he finds Australia in the sweat soaked sheets, familiar memories in the vaguest shape and form being pushed into his head by someone else, like nails being hammered into his skull.

And it matters very little that it is blood and flesh that is doing the pushing.

The push has Scott Hansen shoving back.

 

 

Herc enters the room and there, on Herc’s bunk, is Scott fucking some girl with hair long enough to hide her face from view. His sheets are clenched tight in her hands, her shoulders digging deeper into his mattress as she raises her hips to meet Scott’s every thrust.

It isn’t Scott who speaks, too busy pulling each breath between his teeth, a thumb rubbing up against her clit, the other hand curled around her.

“You better be gettin’ me fresh sheets when you’re done.”

When he walks by, undoing his belt and swiping the towel off of the back of a chair, his gaze doesn’t linger on her throat as she tosses her head back.

Just the way her red hair spills like blood over his pillowcase.

Scott grunts just loud enough to be heard as he closes the bathroom door behind him, and she moans. Scott groans, and she screams loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water as he turns the shower on.

 

When he gets out, Scott’s sitting on the toilet seat, cock still hard, and he says, “You’re going to catch a cold.”

When he gets out, she’s gone, and Scott has him pressed, full-bodied, against the back of the bathroom door, telling him with all the confidence of a Mark I Jaeger pilot, “I think I’ll live.”

Scott likes to kiss with his tongue because Scott doesn’t do subtle, pushes in and if he tastes like soft crayon that’s only because she’s missing from their room but she’s not all gone. Her lipstick still on his mouth, his mouth crushing over his.

Herc wraps a hand around both of them and gets them off before Scott’s ever even pulled back to take a breath.

“This isn’t living, Scotty.”

 

 

He feels like he is trying to keep his head above the waves, tastes salt in the back of his throat. His eyes are stinging and his lungs burn, and he—Hercules remembers his first drift. He also remembers his last. _And if it’s any consolation at all, Scotty, I haven’t forgotten all the in betweens._

 

 

He goes down on his knees, and it’s all eyes wide open when Scott’s hitting the back of his throat. His tongue pressing flat against the underside, Scott’s palm curving around his jaw, tilting his chin up to an angle that is not meant to be comfortable.

“You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, bro.”

Herc pulls off, drags the back of a hand across his mouth, tastes spit and sweat and Scott’s precum on his tongue.

And it's disgusting but there are far worse things.

“Mornings don’t change a thing, Scotty, I hate myself now.”

Scott laughs, and reaches out with his hand only to dig his fingers into the regulations haircut when Herc swallows him down to the hilt, working his throat around the head of his cock, not making a noise but having it tear him apart all the same.

It’s doing what needs to be done to stay aligned in the drift, and Scott does his part.

And if it takes this, he might as well enjoy it.

 

 

To Scott, the question he wants to ask has never been whether Herc is a good man or not.

Because he is not.

And he may be the kind of man to bring a gun to a knife fight but Herc’s the one that will win regardless.

 

 

“Best I could do.”

Scott says when he commandeers a Bell Kiowa and drags Herc from his post. Pushing Herc into the seat with his hands rough at the fingertips, grip one of death. And he doesn’t let go until he has to.

“You’re my brother, and I love you.”

Over the noise of the rotor, and the wind whipping around him, Scott doesn’t really believe it matters one bit whether Hercules can hear him or not. When Scissure comes, drift compatibility exists in a place just out of reach.

 

 

The question has always been: _to what extent, Hercules Hansen, are you willing to go to do the right thing?_

 

Chuck’s the only one Scott can see. “Best I could do,” says Herc and he can barely look at his son.

 

The answer is this: _A long way_.

 

 

The question is not what Scott Hansen’s done to get himself kicked out of the PPDC but what Hercules Hansen’s done to stay.

The question is—

 

 

His fingernails are blunt but they bite into skin, and every drag is short of drawing blood like he wants. Scott hates the pain, and Herc loves that he does. And it’s not awful if they are both the same in turns, equal measures with the push and the pull until.

 

 

“Saw what you did to Uncle Scott.”

Their shared quarters have always been small but it feels downright suffocating when he opens the door to Chuck standing by the foot of his bunk. Herc looks away like it matters at all.

“Sorry, Chuck.”

“Why?” Asks the kid, and there is a hardness in his eyes, like he may know the truth. But Herc knows that he can’t, Herc knows that there is no world in which Chuck has to learn the truth.

Chuck shoves the first aid kit into his hands and turns to leave the room with one last pause.

“Wasn’t your fault Uncle Scott does what he does best, old man.”

 

 

When he signed on, he signed on for life.

When he lets his brother fuck him into thin mattress, each line is made by his nails that mark Scotty’s back just as well as a punch thrown with his hands clenched into fists. When the lights are on, Scott doesn’t ask, and Herc isn’t about to learn to say _no_ now that he is fucking himself down on his brother’s cock, feels the stretch of it and only remembers to exhale when Scott leaves bruises on his hips.

There is nowhere in their files that mentions a thing about this.

When he signed on, he doesn’t know what that entailed at all.

 

 

“You’re my brother, and I love you.”

 

Scott Hansen doesn’t believe in looking for redemption. He is not a good man, and he is not looking to become one. He leaves him to lick at his bruises all on his own. And if this isn’t exactly what they’ve been waiting for since they arrived on Kodiak Island all those years ago, then they are better liars than they've ever gave themselves the credit.

 

“Tell Chuck goodbye for me, Herc.”

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
